


12 Hours

by TheSubtextMachine



Category: Glee
Genre: Banter, Cuddling, M/M, Sleepovers, and somehow it ending u with more drama than in mckinley, big romantic energy but theres no confession of feelings, no homo!!!!!!!, technically pre-slash i guess, the warblers stealing lesson ideas from mckinley, what are u gonna do? sue me???, yes im touch starved. yes to cope i wrote a fic about cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24350974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSubtextMachine/pseuds/TheSubtextMachine
Summary: "i saw this prompt (I’m always cold at night and you’re always too hot so we built up a little pillow wall so I’d get all the blankets but it’s 2am and I still can’t sleep because I miss snuggling with you) and immediately thought of the kurtbastian"In which Dalton tries to take a page from the duets project, so Kurt and Sebastian have a sleepover to make sure they can win the competition. TOTALLY platonic cuddling ensues.
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Sebastian Smythe
Comments: 11
Kudos: 120





	12 Hours

**4 PM**

The Smythe house was, to absolutely nobody’s surprise, way too big.

“I can’t believe you live here. I mean, it makes sense, since you act like you buy things just because they cost more, but seriously, this is just excessive,” said Kurt, dropping his night bag on the couch and looking around at the house that, despite its ridiculous size, was somehow still clean in every crevice.

“Well, you wanted a place to practice, right? And I have an empty house with great acoustics, so sing to your weirdo, falsetto heart’s content,” said Sebastian as he walked to the kitchen, followed by Kurt, who had given up on trying to look at every single thing around him that could clue him into a new part of Sebastian.

When Sebastian had opened and clothes the refrigerator, producing two bottles of water, Kurt got a close look at the fridge, and noticed a picture of a young boy with the same facial structure as Sebastian, wearing a vest and holding a trophy with a huge, cheesy smile on his face.

Despite himself (and his dedication to whatever “frenemy” relationship they had), Kurt was charmed.

“So, any idea on what type of song we’re doing?” Sebastian asked, launching himself up so he was sitting on the counter, looking relaxed and comfortable in a way that reminded Kurt, with a shock, that he really was in Sebastian’s _house_.

This was going to be fucking _weird_.

**5 PM**

It turns out that Sebastian was the kind of secretly neurotic motherfucker who had a big white board in his room, and the minute they started brainstorming seriously, it came to some seriously good use.

By the 5pm mark, the whiteboard was mostly crowded with classic musical theatre duets, a fair few of them crossed off.

“The issue, Kurt, is that while I definitely see the immediate appeal of doing a song about us hating each other, we need to ask ourselves what would surprise the audience. We want to make waves, that’s why we got paired up for this.”

“I thought we just got paired up because we hate each other,” said Kurt, looking at his phone as he scrolled through “Best Musical Theatre” duet listicles for inspiration.

“Probably, but I think we have the same core interests, as far as performances go,” said Sebastian. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at the list, and proceeded to cross off “Crazier Than You”, and when Kurt gave a confused look, Sebastian just said “Not wild enough.”

“What I’m hearing is that you just want to be talked about. Wouldn’t you letting us do a musical number make that clear enough?”

“I love musicals, everyone knows that,” said Sebastian, turning back to the board, studying it with a close eye.

“Firstly, no they don’t, and secondly, what will make them talk?”

“We either need to be really tender and romantic or just so overtly sexual that it shocks them,” said Sebastian, looking at crossing off every song that didn’t fit one of those two criteria.

“I am not going the sexual route with you-”

“Not even if it’s ‘Bad Idea’ from Waitress? I’ll even lay you down on a couch at the end, I’ll pick you up and everything-”

“Good song, and I love being picked up, but I’d rather die than sing about being pregnant in front of the Warblers,” said Kurt.

“You like being picked up?” Sebastian asked, whipping his head around, smiling in a way where Kurt couldn’t tell if he was about to be made fun of or kissed. Sebastian had that look more and more these days, and Kurt would be damned if he could even begin to understand it.

“I mean, yeah. I haven’t gotten the chance to be picked up a lot, and I think it’s kind of fun,” said Kurt, the self consciousness clear in his voice.

“We can put that in the choreography,” said Sebastian, before turning back to the board, his voice flippant as ever.

“I don’t get you,” said Kurt. “Just now, you had the perfect opening to make fun of me and you ignored it, you’re letting me sleep over at your house, and now, with this song, you’re… you treat it being a romantic duet as a given.”

“We can talk about feelings later, right now I need to figure out this duet or it’ll drive me crazy. I’ll answer your question at 8, does that sound alright? After we choose the song, get food, and practice?” asked Sebastian, his voice speeding up as he capped and uncapped the dry erase marker in his hand. Kurt wondered, for a second, if this is what he was like before tests, and judging by the sheer number of SAT and ACT prep books in the room, he figured the answer was a solid yes.

“Fine. I say we get it down to three, sing through them, and see which one we’re drawn to.”

“Sounds good. Any opinion on the tender versus sexual angle?” asked Sebastian with the cool disregard of someone asking about a math question.

“Tender, for sure. We want to be talked about, to do something new for the Warblers, but if we French in the middle of practice, we’ll get in too much trouble for it to be worth it. Let’s just act like we’re in love,” said Kurt, his fingers at his temple, massaging out a headache at the slow build of stress over whatever weird tension there was between them.

“Oui oui. I’ll keep all the Frenching in this room, mon ami,” said Sebastian, crossing off ‘Something Good’ from the list, before erasing the whole line and writing it back in again.

“You astound me, Sebastian Smythe.”

**6pm**

The discovery that Sebastian was actually willing to pick Kurt up to the point of initiating it during one of the “sing it together, maybe improvise choreography, see how it feels” songs would’ve been the biggest shock of the night, if not for the fact that almost every single minute of this weird excursion provided a weirder surprise than the minute before.

It was in the middle of their run through of “People Will Say We’re In Love”, and even though it released an ungodly squeak from Kurt when it happened, there was something so comfortable about the motion that they not only picked that song, but kept the move. 

“I think,” began Kurt during a break, as they were sitting by each other on the couch, sipping on their water and recovering from the exercise of choreography, “that we have never been touching this much. I don’t even remember giving you a high five before, and now you’re carrying me-”

“It’s good for my arms, I’ll probably do it more,” said Sebastian, causing a flush on Kurt’s face that he tried and failed to attribute to the exercise.

“Anyway, what I was saying, is that I think it’s weird-”

“You homophobic? Think a bro carrying another bro is weird? Damn Kurt, I expected better,” quipped Sebastian.

“Exactly!”

“You’re homophobic?”

“No, we’re like, bros now! It’s weird!”

“True, it is a new development, I guess. I know enemies to frenemies to bros must be hard for you,” said Sebastian before tossing another one of those impossible to decipher glances to Kurt.

“It is. Usually my friendships follow a much different path.”

“Glad to be your first,” said Sebastian with a wink, causing a deepening of Kurt’s flush. 

“I love that you can turn a discussion on friendship into something slutty,” said Kurt as he rolled his eyes and pulled himself up from Sebastian’s couch, and when he looked back to Sebastian, he had sprawled across the couch, as if trying to see how much space he could take up.

“I like being your bro,” Sebastian admitted, avoiding eye contact with Kurt as he did.

“Really?” Kurt asked, suddenly feeling very awkward in his standing position, but not wanting to sit down on the Bas-occupied area of the couch.

“Yeah. I think we make a good team, we want the same things. We dislike how the Warblers are stuck up, which is essential for a friendship, and it’s nice that you’re not, y’know… really weird about me being… I don’t know if touchy feely is a good word for it, but I’m a cuddly person, and a lot of the guys are weird about it.”

The confession hung in the air, and Kurt couldn’t quite tell how to respond, so he just started talking and hoped it wouldn’t result in him being kicked out.

“I mean, I get it, I appreciate that you’re okay with touching- like, I, umm.. It’s not like the people at McKinley were at all okay with it, especially since the guys were afraid they could catch the gay from a high five. And it’s not like we’re full on cuddling, or doing anything that would be considered romantic, you’re just picking me up and carrying me for a scene,” rambled Kurt.

“Why are you standing?” Sebastian asked, distracted away from their discussion by Kurt’s awkward stance.

“I mean, you’re taking up the couch.”

“It’s comfortable, though.”

There was a moment of silence, of a silent challenge. Sebastian gave him that look again, the one that carried some unnamed intensity, and it seemed to say “get over here, if you’re not scared.”

Kurt walked over and sat down on the couch, sitting in a way that meant that Sebastian’s calves were pressed up against Kurt’s back, a not-uncomfortable position that still made Kurt’s heart beat a bit faster. 

“Are we going to practice some more?” Kurt asked, taking up the challenge and looking Sebastian in the eyes, and he tried desperately for it to not feel like sexual tension, because it _wasn’t_ , it couldn’t be. 

“Not yet. I’m enjoying this break,” said Sebastian, meeting the challenge with gusto.

“Want to watch something?”

“I’m enjoying the show right now.” At this, Sebastian laced his fingers together and put them behind his head.

“So you just want to stare at me until you get sick of my face?” Kurt asked, looking unimpressed.

“We can watch something, I’ll get sick of your face soon. I have low tolerance. Want to order food?” Sebastian asked as he pulled out his phone, tapping through to some food ordering app and tossing the phone to Kurt. “I’m feeling lucky.”

“Good for you. How does Italian sound?” 

“Looking at Amico Chef?”

“How did you know?”

“Birds of a feather, I guess. Never repeat that. It should have my order preloaded, you can get whatever,” said Sebastian before settling down again, wriggling his calves the slightest bit against Kurt’s back.

“Rich maniac,” muttered Kurt, before completing the order.

“This maniac is paying for your meal, so don’t talk too much shit,” said Sebastian without any malice in his voice. Kurt was beginning to wonder if “one on one time” Sebastian was just nicer than “in public, social performance” Sebastian.

“Let’s choreograph more while we wait for the delivery, alright?” said Kurt. He pushed himself up off the couch, and tried to ignore the mean coolness flooding his back where Sebastian’s warm leg had touched him. 

**7pm**

“I’m just saying! I get why you’re okay with it, but every year that we lose to the New Directions, it’s because we aren’t trying anything new!” said Sebastian, moving his fork around as he spoke to accentuate every point.

Kurt wiped any spaghetti sauce from his lips, trying to appear prim as he responded.

“But isn’t that what they’re looking for? Precision and order, versus an inevitably chaotic take on some risk?”

“But if the chaotic take wins every year, why are we sticking with the same old, same old? Let’s try to apply our classic precision to something new!”

“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir. Tell that to the judges, who every single year, criticize the inherent homoeroticism of boys singing at each other,” said Kurt, before taking a hearty, if ill-timed, bite out of his breadstick.

“It is my life goal to increase the homoeroticism of any Warbler event,” said Sebastian as he stared at the wet spot of olive oil on Kurt’s bottom lip.

“Okay, whore.”

Sebastian laughed at this, and after a moment, Kurt joined in. Despite the foreign sensation of laughing _with_ Sebastian hitting him in a strange way, the joy of mutual understanding outweighed any discomfort.

**8pm**

Senbastian was holding a wooden spoon, plucked from the kitchen, in his hands as he sang/screamed “How did it end up like this, it was only a kiss, iT wAS ONLY A KISS!” into the poor spoon.

Kurt had the same question. How did it end up like this, he wondered, holding up a soup ladle and doing the exact same thing: singing his heart out while dancing like a total fool in the wide, open space of Sebastian’s living room. The acoustics were fantastic, perfect for a good, jumping dance party as the sun set through the immaculate, large windows.

Kurt was getting sweaty, too, an unfortunate mix of the heavy (and so, so good) italian food resting in his stomach and the jumping around to the playlist that Sebastian had curated for “alone in the house jam sessions”. 

“How is this the best sleepover I’ve ever had?” Kurt yelled over the music, letting his walls down for a split second, ready to pull them back up if a snide comment was made.

“Oh honey, it’s only going to get better!” yelled Sebastian, before launching again into the most gusto-filled performance of Mr. Brightside that was physically possible. Kurt could only smile and join in, letting loose his classic shimmy, the move that Sebastian himself had, only a month ago, called “the mating dance of the saddest gay bird I’ve ever seen”.

<9pm

With the sun finally set, it seemed as if Kurt and Sebastian had no choice but to either sleep or practice, so they figured they would practice. Sebastian, as a “directorial decision”, had decided that he would spend as much of the number as possible looking at Kurt’s lips, a directorial decision that proved itself to be very, _very_ distracting as practices wore on.

“C’mon, Bas, there has to be another place you can look. You can only look at my lips for a set period of time before suddenly the whole audience is looking at my lips, like they’re trying to find something wrong with them. I believe in your ability to find another way to choreograph intimacy.”

“Okay, I can check your whole body out, if that’ll make it more convincing. We can also add more, um, casual touching? Maybe we can extend the waltz segment a bit, even add a dip?” Sebastian asked.

Kurt, who was not anticipating that he would spend the night spending more and more time in Sebastian’s arms (only for the performance, though. He must not forget that it was all for the performance), had reached the point of “well, this might as well happen”, and tailored all of his ideas to fit that mood.

“Maybe we should try to get more comfortable touching each other in the first place,” he said, not knowing what words were leaving his mouth as he said them.

“What?” Sebastian asked, his eyes wide like a bandit caught red handed.

“You want the intimacy to seem real, right? Let’s get comfortable in it. I’ll commit to the role, it’s all theatre.”

“Are we about to make out right now?” Sebastian asked, his eyes still wide in that odd way.

“No, stupid. I’m just saying maybe we should sit with our arms pressed against each other, or something. How in the world did you get ‘makeout sesh’ from what I said?”

“Princess, when you’re this hot,” Sebastian motioned to himself, “most sentences spoken by other men who like men involve at least an intimation of a makeout session.”

“I’m so sorry that your bangin’ bod has turned you socially illiterate, Sebastian. Now let’s run the number one more time.”

**10pm**

If you had told Kurt one year ago that right now, he would be sitting on Sebastian’s lap and watching The Office with him during a break, he would’ve called for a wellness check.

But alas, there he was, sitting on Sebastian’s lap and trying not to be affected by the fact that he could smell another boy’s hair, a frivolity that only someone as touch starved as him could really appreciate.

“This is nice,” murmured Sebastian, and Kurt’s heart beat just the slightest bit faster as a result.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t get to do this a lot with people. I mean, it’s usually either high fives or full on boning... I don’t really get this in between business in my life but it’s- it’s nice.”

“As someone who doesn’t tend to get either high fives or, as you say, full on boning, I can also agree that this is nice. I’ve never, um, cuddled with a bro before.”

“Yeah, a bro,” said Sebastian under his breath. “Non-erotic intimacy with the homies,” he added, making Kurt laugh.

“Oh, for sure. There’s nothing quite like sitting on the lap of your BFF and smelling his hair, and hoping it’s not in a creepy way.”

“I mean, your hair smells nice too,” said Sebastian, and Kurt looked down at him to see the beginnings of a blush blossoming on the tops of his cheeks.

“This is bizarre.”

“Wanna stop?”

“Of course not,” answered Kurt, like it was the simplest thing in the world. 

In a way, it kind of was. 

**11pm**

“Wait, wait, I have- I have an idea,” said Kurt, his voice loopy with the exhaustion of having practiced for a few hours now, with each run ending up a little bit different, ending in the occasional vocalized idea.

“Spill the tea, sis.”

“Nevermind. I don’t know you, I’d never share something as precious as a Hummel spark of the imagination with you. Get out of my house.”

“This is _my_ house, Kurt.”

“Okay, okay, here’s my idea. So, the slow dance section, we’re waltzing, right? How about when I’m taking a step forward and you’re supposed to take a step back, you stay still, so I sort of bump into you, and it’s all flirty.”

“Get over here so we can try out the move,” said Sebastian, gesturing Kurt over, and humming the section of the song where they waltzed under their breath, the moment came where Kurt would take a step forward, and Sebastian followed the direction to stay still.

The issue, however, was that without Sebastian giving him any sort of cue that he was going to do it now as opposed to in another eight counts, Kurt went at him with full force, not bracing himself for the teenage reality of the fact that he was barrelling into the hard line of another guy’s body, one that he wasn’t _not_ attracted to.

(Kurt found it significantly easier these days to think of his feelings towards Sebastian as, instead of “attracted”, in the more obfuscated language of “not not attracted”, even if to the unfamiliar eye, it sounded dodgy, like he was avoiding something, because he _totally_ wasn’t. It was _fine_.)

The rapid succession of events in which Kurt pushed into Sebastian, Sebastian lost balance in shock, and the tumbled to the floor, Kurt on top of Sebastian, seemed to happen so fast that when they had finally caught their breath, they had been on the floor together for a period of time that would best be described as “homoerotic”.

“Next time we do that move, give me a cue before you do the thing, okay?” Kurt asked, out of breath in a way that left him panting on the skin of Sebastian’s cheek.

Sebastian, much to Kurt’s confusion, had not made a move or given any intimation that he wanted Kurt to get off of him. In fact, Sebastian seemed awfully… distracted, would be the best word. He was looking at the line of Kurts jawline like it was a revelation, and he hadn’t even commented on Kurt’s request regarding future performances.

“Earth to Sebastian?” asked Kurt, his voice lilting like it was a joke as he clambered off of Sebastian. 

“Sorry, sorry.“ Sebastian was still laying on the floor. Kurt had to look away, since for some reason that he couldn’t/wouldn’t understand, that sight was making his stomach feel all weird, like it was doing backflips and sparking. 

“You’re really tired, huh?” asked Kurt.

“Yeah, that.”

**12am**

Few things were as surreal for Kurt as sitting by Sebastian’s side on the granite island of his kitchen, and eating from the same ice cream carton as him while playing a two-person game of “truth or truth”, and this was a lesson he, for some ungodly reason, had to learn from experience.

They were at the point of practice where they had a solid idea of the broad strokes of the project, but just needed some time and rest before they could fill in the fine details. In want of another energy boost to get a hard twirl down to perfection, Sebastian had recommended an ice cream break, which had devolved past all recognition by the second spoonful.

“Okay, truth or truth?”

“Truth, obviously. So you need to ask it every time?” Kurt asked, his eyes rolling in feigned annoyance.

“Yes it’s about preserving the integrity of the game. Anyway, my question… okay let me think… okay, have you ever tried to take a sexy picture? Of yourself?” Sebastian asked, before shoveling another spoonful in his mouth and smiling at Kurt, his face gleeful in the way that only a teenager on a sugar high could look.

“Um, that depends. I’ve tried to look, like, sexy and/or hot in pictures of myself, yes, but I’ve never taken any nudes or sexually suggestive things like that. I’m not a dick pic guy, I guess. Your turn- truth or truth?”

“I thought you said that asking it was unnecessary,” said Sebastian, in his slow, goading voice, the one that he used so often on Kurt.

“It sounds good when I say it. Anyway, my question. Do you, like, have crushes? You seem so flippant, but do you like, have sustained inter-”

“Yes,” said Sebastian. “No further questions on that matter.”

“Oh, okay- I’m sorry if I hit a nerve, or something-”

“Now, my turn to ask you a question. Boxers or briefs?”

**1am**

“So, where’s the guest room?” Kurt asked, his eyeline flickering to his duffle bag.

“What? You’re already here, aren’t you?” asked Sebastian, turning on his side to see Kurt.

They had reached the sugar crash, which functionally meant that Kurt and Sebastian had migrated to Sebastian’s room to watch the spinning light show that Sebastian’s party light provided. They were on their backs, side by side in Sebastian’s bed, watching the lights spinning around the ceiling while listening to a playlist that Sebastian had simply titled “vibes”.

“I mean, I don’t want to sleep on the floor,” said Kurt, still looking up at the ceiling. 

“I was planning on just putting a little pillow wall between us, so we could, like, talk late into the night without worrying about where you fall asleep.”

“I’ll get much less lucid, I’ll warn you of that now.”

“Good, that’s the Kurt Hummel content I want,” said Sebastian, turning again so he could look up at the ceiling. “This was such a good purchase,” he murmured under his breath.

**2am**

Kurt and Sebastian, after constructing a pillow wall between them to be the Berlin Wall of No Homo, had drifted into uncomfortable half-sleep after an hour, which was only interrupted by the occasional sleepy remark.

“How many condoms are in this room?” Kurt asked, looking up at the ceiling, now devoid of the light show.

“You’re gonna need to be more specific, buddy. I kind of prep for all possibilities.”

“What does- what the fuck does that mean?”

“Like, do you want a straight number? Do you want a location specific breakdown? Do you consider the ensuite part of my room? Do you consider rolls of condoms as one or multiple condoms?”

“That’s… I don’t know what I even want to know. I just wanted to know how much rubber was in the room.”

“Well, I have latex-free available too. Latex allergies are no joke, Kurt,” said Sebastian, striking the perfect deadpan tone that perfectly fucked with Kurt’s ability to decipher whether it was a joke or not.

“Okay, okay, I’m- ookay, quick test. If we decided to have sex right here, right now, where is the nearest condom?”

“Depends. Do you have a latex allergy? Also, what size would you need?”

“I- I’m not going to tell you how big my dick is, Sebastian. Also, I do not have a latex allergy.”

“Okay, so I’ll go medium for safety, and latex available. Give me a second,” said Sebastian, and Kurt sat up to watch Sebastian reach for a condom from his pillowcase. He tossed it to Kurt with a bland look, as if he could do this in his sleep.

“I can’t tell if I’m impressed or horrified.”

“You’re welcome.”

**3am**

Sebastian, after all condom discussion had petered off (he had some very… educated opinions on ribbed condoms, much to Kurt’s horror), Sebastian had fallen into a fitful sleep, one that he seemed in and out of, dipping into dreams for a minute or two before drifting back awake.

All of these journeys through his consciousness had been accompanied by, much to Kurt’s insomniac entertainment, the narration of Sebastian speaking in his sleep.

Kurt fought the urge to jot down the weird (“I do not _care_ if the cotton candy is yellow, as long as it tastes like blue it’s fine), incomprehensible (“oh, yes, the hair demons. I haven’t seen you since Andy’s kickback.”), and downright embarrassing (“Stop calling me that or I’ll give you a little kissy, alrighty?”) sentences that slipped out of Sebastian’s lips, but figured that they couldn’t be forgotten.

Kurt had actually fallen into his own version of fitful sleep, before being awoken by the deep rumble of laughter from the other side of the pillow wall. Despite the grogginess hanging on him from his sleep, he managed to lift his head over the wall to see Sebastian, still laughing.

“What?”

“You talk in your sleep!” whispered Sebastian, his face totally elated.

“Oh my god, what did I say?” Kurt asked, his eyes widening in the immediate fear of every possible awful thing that could’ve tumbled out.

“You were flexing about how good you were at tap dancing,” said Sebastian in between sleepy fits of giggles. 

“Oh, thank god. That’s nowhere near as embarrassing as the shit you’ve been saying,” said Kurt as he plopped his head back on the pillow in perfect counterbalance to Sebastian’s head as it lifted over the pillow wall in alarm.

“What? Did I- wait a minute, please tell me I didn’t-”

“I will not confirm or deny,” said Kurt with the cheekiest smile he could muster.

“Fuck,” whispered Sebastian as he dropped back down on his side of the wall.

**4am**

They were both, as far as Kurt could tell by their breathing, still awake, and the discomfort of being silently awake next to someone was becoming exponential.

There was some odd tension building between them, of the shared knowledge that the other was awake, and that the other wanted to sleep just as much.

“What happens at the Smythe house stays at the Smythe house,” said Sebastian, unbidden and quiet in the tense atmosphere around them.

“Yeah? What about it?” asked Kurt.

“What if we… maybe we could cuddle.”

The suggestion hung in the air for the longest time, and just as Sebastian opened his mouth to say a quick “never mind”, Kurt spoke up.

“I think you’ll need to ditch the No Homo Wall first. Wanna spoon me? Guests should get little spoon privileges, I think,” said Kurt, and before the sentence was complete, half of the wall had already been pulled down. 

Kurt had taken some of the pillows down himself, and turned away from Sebastian, turning on his side and hoping he’d get the clue.

Sebastian did, since within seconds, a warmness aligned itself on Kurt’s back, and Sebastian’s (very toned, not like Kurt noticed or anything) arm winded around Kurt’s waist, and he was engulfed in the quiet comfort of the contact, which in the dark, seemed so all consuming.

It was the exact whirlwind of action and sensation that should’ve woken Kurt up even more, but there was a simplicity to it, of hearing Sebastian’s breath even out slowly, fanning against the back of his neck in a perfect rhythm.

Despite the absurdity of it all, of how much their relationship had shifted in the past 12 hours, when Kurt closed his eyes, he fell into a pleasant sleep, one where he didn’t care to dwell on how he got there.

**Author's Note:**

> this was a prompt, and if u want to send me a prompt, pop in my ask box on tumblr @thesubtextmachine, and I'll tackle it ASAP!


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